The dog was going to the back at night and for a moment I worried that a coyote, which I had heard yipping a few nights ago, would kill it, and I reflected: really it doesn’t matter. It’s just a dog. Nothing matters. We project mattering upon a universe of neutral facts for our own ends, to satisfy our own emotional needs.
I shared this ideas with David.
“You were scared that the dog would get killed by a coyote, so you told yourself “nothing matters” to protect yourself from pain. You project non-mattering about a universe of alluring and repulsive facts for your own ends, to satisfy your own emotional needs.”
“Isn’t the universe of things I care about an illusion I come up with to feel important?”
“No more or less than the universe of things you don’t care about is an illusion you come up with to keep you safe.”
“But the universe really doesn’t care.”
“You keep saying that. You are like a baby with a toy. Everything is on a wire. You can slide it to one side of the toy — mattering — or to the other side of the toy — not mattering. Which side of the toy you slide it to depends upon what you want, what you feel, who you are. ”
I thought about David’s claim for a moment and brought the dog back from the yard and shut the door.
I looked at David who had lost some of his corporeality and became just a part of me.
“Don’t call me a baby.”